


made mistakes and amends and brief moments of magic

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gap Filler, Infidelity, Office Sex, Slice of Life, Talking, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: When you give things definitions, it changes their shape. Rebecca tries to define her relationship to Nathaniel in the simplest terms possible. Set during 3x11 timeskip in the first few months.





	made mistakes and amends and brief moments of magic

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to give this a plot, but I don't think it quite worked. Instead, have some loosely connected scenes of R/N doing their thing in the first half of their affair and poor Dr Akopian trying to do her thing with Rebecca and sort-of succeeding. A little bit.

Rebecca needs to know that she is seen.

It’s one of the many reasons she loved theater. It's one of the first things she loved about Josh Chan. Josh, who was so good and looked at her with this endearing mixture of admiration and affection and bafflement, until he didn't.

It’s also, probably, why when she took over the firm in a haze of righteous anger-slash-post-heartbreak rage amplified up by regular hormone injections, she made a point of moving into Nathaniel’s office. Nathaniel’s gaze has always been utterly direct, regardless of whether he is commending or insulting her. Even when he makes her so angry that the world around her blurs out, it takes no effort to look up and meet his eyes. In the elevator, or at her doorstep, or across the dinner table: there is a focus to the intensity that makes her skin prickle pleasantly. She always knows when he’s looking at her, when she gets goosebumps, or sees him flick his wrist or exhale softly at the edges of her vision.

At the time, it made sense to her hormone-addled brain, and because he had acquiesced without too much of a fight, she initially counted it as a victory. Now, it seems like more and more of a bad idea. Because being broken up has done absolutely nothing to the energy between them.

~

“So, what’s it like sharing an office with Nathaniel?”

Rebecca looks up from her book, blinking spots from her eyes. “Whassit? What about Nathaniel?”

She fights the urge to scan the surrounding area – the chance that Nathaniel would actually ever deign to appear at Sugar Face of his own volition are second to none, she could reasonably put down money on that—but given recent events it counts as a smart precaution.

Paula isn’t even looking up from her notes, cracking out a pink highlighter. She’s taking some advanced property law class that she claims is kicking her ass, but Rebecca knows what getting your ass kicked by law school looks like, and it isn’t Paula’s super-efficient notetaking.

“I mean, as a ladyboss move, it was fantastic. I one-hundred percent approve. But, honey, you guys were carrying _a lot_ of tension. I had to get a neck massage after watching you go at each other.”

“Oh. I mean, it was a little weird the first couple of days, but we figured it out,” Rebecca shrugs. “It’s not like we can stay mad at each other that long when we have work to get done. It was a two-week relationship. My engagement to Josh lasted longer and we all know what a  _disaster_  that was. We’re solid. I’ve moved on and, more importantly, he’s moved on.”

“Yeah, that’s part of what I’m getting at—are you sure you’re all right?” Paula does look up now, concern creasing the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know all of the details about what went down with you two, but I know breakups. It can’t be easy to see him moving on so quickly.”

“Paula, I’m okay.” Rebecca reaches out and gently grasps Paula’s arm, hoping she can feel the affection in it. “Really. I’m not ready to have a relationship, that’s a fact, so I’m not about to regret that. And honestly, the lawsuit was the best thing I could have done to help get over him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I finally saw his yuck, and it was a big one.”

Paula blinks. Hard, like squeezing down her eyelids is enough to scour her eyes.

“I’ll bet.” She manages, looking back down to her notes.

“Like, I had a feeling it would be,” Rebecca continues thoughtfully, leaning back and folding her arms behind her head. “But then just seeing it hang out there made me really  _comprehend_ —”

“O-kay, honey, I don’t need to hear any more.” Paula says, holding up both hands as if to ward Rebecca off.

For a long moment, Rebecca just stares at Paula in puzzlement. Then the synapses click and she grins.

“I mean, I’m talking about his bad attitude, not his penis, but if you really want me to go there…”

Paula blanches and makes a cross of her forearms, leaning backwards on the bench.

“ _Nope._  Nope nope nope. We’re  _done_ , it’s done, you’re  _both done_ , so this conversation is  _over_.”

~

Unsurprisingly, being a senior partner is demanding as hell.

Despite Rebecca’s initial promises, there are way more meetings and interruptions and budgeting than she would have thought possible for a firm as otherwise relaxed they are, regardless of Nathaniel’s prior attempts to tighten up the ship.

(Rebecca thinks one of the reasons he gets over himself as quickly as he does is because she makes an offhand remark about starting to understand why he was such a jerk all of the time, with this kind of budgeting.)

But at the same time, she enjoys the challenge, successfully standing her ground and pushing her clients in all the ways she knows best. And because she is damn good at her job, Nathaniel stops simmering so much, and as her second week closes out, they are something close to civil. It’s almost pleasant, once they’ve got the decoration situation sorted out.

But ‘civil’ is a long shot from ‘friendly’, and while Rebecca could admit that it’s not a bad place to be with an ex-boyfriend, she prefers friendliness. She likes Nathaniel, and now that she has a little distance from the events that brought it about, she can admit that her own behavior has been less than ideal.

So she extends the first olive branch, he takes it, a little more graciously than she expects, and relief warms through her. Despite their antics over the last few weeks, for a few minutes she can believe that they are capable of being functioning adults who can work together, despite any personal history.

But that’s when the energy that they have sought to ignore and dampen surges up white hot between them the second they clasp hands, and Rebecca realizes that it was not her best idea approximately two seconds after Nathaniel gives an experimental tug and instead of pulling back she follows the momentum through, sliding into his lap and curling over him, closing a month’s gap of distance.

They could stop. There is a moment when they actually do stop and she’s got his face in her hands and they are on the same page: it’s a terrible idea, it is actually the worst idea…

Except she’s  _missed_  this, even more than she originally thought, and it’s so easy to look back down at his lips and fall back into old rhythms. She can feel him reciprocate the sentiment in how he holds her, the press of his hands as they cradle the back of her head, the burn as they slide down to her waist and start curling into the tuck of the back of her skirt, seeking more skin.

She would be lying to say she was thinking clearly, but it would be something along the lines of  _one last time won’t hurt_.

~

Except, the last time or not, having sex in the office you share  _is,_  definitely, a mistake.

In the aftermath, when she’s pulling on her blouse and he’s fishing his outerwear off the floor, it’s suddenly really hard to make eye contact, because oh god, what were they thinking, they have to  _sit in here_  every day.

“Well, that was a terrible idea,” she says again for emphasis, because it bears repeating, trying not to think about the fact that she is going to have to come in tomorrow and sit across from him and pretend nothing happened. That they didn’t just enact what she had thought was a long-buried fantasy, one that she suppressed ruthlessly during his first few weeks in the firm and then only briefly resurfaced during their relationship, when she had let her imagination grow wild.

“Uh huh,” agrees Nathaniel, shrugging into his jacket, and when Rebecca glances over, to gauge his reaction further, he’s not looking at her but eying his chair, and she almost laughs, because  _right_ , as awkward as this is for her, he’s the one who actually has to sit there.

Maybe they can dig out some disinfectant from the supply closet.

“That’s not happening again,” he agrees, tearing his eyes away from the scene of the crime. His eyes flicker briefly to her mouth and Rebecca resists the impulse to wet them to sooth the sting since, yes, they still feel a little kiss-bitten, but that is probably the road right to disaster round two.

“Absolutely not,” agrees Rebecca, moving back across the room, her pulse still racing and with a head full of dopamine and okay, one hand skimming the desk because she’s still wobbly. When she’s safely on her side again, she catches him looking, head canted to the side.

She holds up a hand. “Not a word.”

Rebecca knows how she looks – her hair mussed, perspiration cooling her flushed skin, fabric clinging where it normally wouldn’t. She would be hard-pressed to call it anything but post-coital.

He shakes his head and looks away as he finishes buttoning his jacket.

There is no way that they will get any more work done tonight, so she sweeps her laptop into her bag and flees out the door as soon as she humanly can, barreling right by the elevator and taking the stairs two at a time.

Well, if nothing else, she’s getting her cardio for the day.

~

The next morning is every bit as awkward as she fears. Nathaniel’s ears turn pink every time she so much as catches his eye, and every time he clears his throat she flinches and curls further into herself, to try to hide behind her laptop. When he asks to talk to her—and it’s definitely not about the files—she babbles an excuse about coffee and promptly flees. She spends as much of the day as she can flitting around the bullpen, pretending to check in with Paula, heckling Tim, and ordering George around.

Unfortunately, there is only so much dawdling she can do and when Paula asks her, not unkindly, to let her do her job, Rebecca is forced to face the reality that she can’t keep treating it like a crime scene.

When she slinks back into their office, Nathaniel is looking down at his laptop and pretending to ignore her. Good. She takes a seat and tries to do the same.

Except she can’t concentrate, her brain restless and skittering from topic to topic between seconds and trying to pretend that she can’t feel still feel impressions from his hands on every inch of her.

It’s almost a relief when she runs out of staples. She smacks the stapler a few times to be sure, earning her an annoyed glance from her officemate. She stands abruptly, grateful for the excuse.

“I’m going to the supply closet. Need anything?”

Nathaniel shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Good.” Rebecca spins on her heel and walks right out of the room.

She really doesn’t have much of a plan, apart from escaping Nathaniel’s presence for a little longer and figure out the best way to accomplish her work without being in the same room with him until she stopped.

The staples are hidden much better than she remembered, and it takes some time, picking through the different boxes looking for them. She makes a mental note to get George to reorganize later–this is a little absurd.

“Rebecca?”

_Shit._

Rebecca whirls around and Nathaniel is stepping into the closet and closing the door without shutting it, leaving a half-inch gap between them and the rest of the office.

He takes a deep breath and claps his hands together. “We need to talk about this.”

“Do we have to do that  _here_?” she hisses.

“You mean instead of in our private office?” he asks in mock confusion. “That’s an excellent question. See, I would prefer that, but you don’t seem that interested, since you keep running out every time I try to bring it up.”

“Gee, really? What possible reason do you think I have for doing that?” she demands.

Nathaniel doesn’t reply immediately, his jaw working, like he’s rooting around for the right words.

“Look, it’s not an ideal situation…”

“To say the least,” she mutters, earning her a glare.

“Can you try to work with what I’m trying to say?” he asks, exasperated.

“Fine,” says Rebecca, giving in. “But could you shut the door? I appreciate that you’re trying to leave me an open exit, but I don’t want anyone accidentally overhearing.”

“Of course,” says Nathaniel. He turns the handle but leaves it unlocked, though the snick of the closing mechanism makes her back straighten and her breath quicken. She counts them out, thinking of her exercises, and folds her arms tightly over her chest.

“Talk,” she orders.

“Look, we already agreed that last night was a bad idea—”

“You’re right. We did. That is an actual fact of what happened.”

“But it did happen. And it was very, well…” he stops and pulls at the knot of his tie and Rebecca can see the flex of his throat as he swallows. She tips her head to the side, imagines tugging him closer and pressing her lips there, and shakes herself out of the fantasy as quickly as it appears.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about how it was,” she says quickly, shifting her weight, one foot scratching the opposite ankle.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s not—ugh.” He groans, his hands digging into his hair. He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know.” Rebecca rubs at the back of her neck. “But, uh, for the record? Following me into this small, enclosed space is not the way to do it.”

He grimaces. “Yeah, I know. Look, can we just get coffee or something? Get out of the office so we can talk properly?”

Rebecca shakes her head violently; it sounds entirely too much like a would-be could-be date. “No, I mean we’re here now. Might as well get it over with.”

Nathaniel shrugs. “Fine. Uh, in the interest of getting less uncomfortable, do you want to try switching sides? Maybe that would be easier?”

“Yeah.”

They exchange positions so that now her back is to the door, while he leans against the back shelves, hands shoved deep into his pockets, everything about him tight and pulled-in. She can’t remember ever seeing him look so ill at ease in his own skin.

“That’s better,” she says, unconvincingly.

“Yeah.” Nathaniel clears his throat. “Just…there’s no reason we need to be awkward about this, right? It was a mistake, but we’ll move past it.”

“Definitely,” says Rebecca, nodding rapidly. “And, if you think about it, it’s not that surprising that it happened, really. It hasn’t been that long since the break-up, we had just spent most of that time winding each other up, and…” Her mouth twists up into a slightly smirk. “Well, you know. We’re both highly attractive people, it’s totally understandable…”

That provokes a chuckle from Nathaniel, and she can see how his shoulders are no longer hunched so tightly forward, and she can feel herself relax in turn.

“I think we just hadn’t gotten each other out of our systems yet,” she says, the admission still feeling something like a lie, dragging a hand through her hair, scratching down hard on her scalp. She doesn’t have to look at Nathaniel to know that he’s tracking the movement. She doesn’t need any reminders that they know each other’s tells.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. “That’s probably all it was.”

They are closer now. She’s not sure how, but she’s drifted away from the door and he’s not wedged in the corner the way he was before, though there is still a healthy distance between them.

They regard each other for a long moment. She’s almost disappointed that all it took was to acknowledge it like this. She shouldn’t be, she tells herself. It’s a good thing. It means that things can be…normal, again.

Except, what is normal, anyways? It doesn’t mean going back to the way things were before, and anyways, ‘normal’ with Nathaniel has always included a kind of simmering undercurrent of tension, a silken thread she can’t help but grasp and tug, always curious to see how he would react.

She doesn’t want normal with Nathaniel. They need a different kind of normal.

“Well?” she asks, rolling her shoulders back and noticing that Nathaniel immediately looks to a point above her left ear like it’s the most fascinating thing in the room. “Did you say everything you wanted to say?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, shaking his head, as if waking disoriented from a dream, not entirely certain of himself. “I guess so.”

This time when he pulls at his tie he yanks the knot loose, as if it is cutting off his air supply.

“Yeah.” Looking up into his eyes doesn’t seem like the most promising thing she can do, either, so Rebecca keeps her focus transfixed on the blocks of sticky notes sticking out on the shelf above his head. “Though, before we go back to the office and be professional, can I just say one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That was way more difficult than it had to be, right?”

“What do you mean?” Nathaniel asks warily. “You mean last night?”

“Um,” she says, grimacing at her own faux pas. Unfortunately, instead of awkwardness bringing it to a screeching halt, it becomes more of a tripwire and the rest of it comes spilling out. “Like, don’t get me wrong, it was pretty hot stuff, but the armrests were a serious pain, and transitioning from your chair to the desk was also weirdly tricky, maybe it was the leverage—”

Nathaniel nods and opens his mouth like he’s about to agree with her, but then catches himself, leaning his weight back against the shelving again, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling slowly.

“Didn’t you just say we shouldn’t talk about this?”

“I know, I know.” Rebecca covers her face with her hands, squeezing her eyes closed. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Thank you for your feedback,” he says, a little dry. Rebecca bites down hard on the inside of her cheek to hide her smile.

“I’m just saying, if you’re getting busy with someone and they tell you there’s a pen in their back, it should be an innuendo, not an actual writing implement.”

Nathaniel laughs, unexpectedly loud, the lines of tension loosening along his shoulders, and this time when his hand goes up to his tie the gesture is unconscious rather than fidgety.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he teases. He cocks his head to the side, his gaze lingering almost deliberately on her eyes and her lips. “Any other, ah, notes I should be aware of?”

“No, that was the only real low point.” She mirrors his gesture, bringing her hands behind her neck, sweeping her hair to one side, away from her neck, and getting the satisfaction of his eyes automatically drawing towards the movement. “What about me?”

“Be a little more careful where you put your knee, maybe?” he says, the corners of his mouth tipping up to a half smile. “That’s about it.”

“Hey, momentum was not on my side and I did the best with the space I had,” she protests. “Besides, you took care of that part pretty quickly. Helping hands and all that.”

“Don’t thank me; it wasn’t that altruistic a move.”

“Right,” she says, a little breathless, because now the phantom impressions that she has been avoiding replaying now come back full force, the rush and relief that combined all too sweetly at still being wanted, despite everything.

“Take your hands out of your pockets,” she says.

“Huh?”

But he already has, the motion automatic with her request, and in three steps she’s closed the minimal distance between them, wrapping her hands around his neck to drag him right down to her level, their teeth nearly clattering together. He responds immediately, opening his mouth to her, one of his hands coming up to twine in her hair, tilting her head to adjust the angle of their kiss. The other hand presses insistently at her back, sealing their bodies together.

“You should lock the door,” she tells him, clinging to his lapels, walking them backwards against the door.

Nathaniel doesn’t say anything more, just reaches behind her and turns the lock, and slides both arms down to her thighs to hoist her onto the empty table.

~

“Okay, we should definitely be out of each other’s systems  _now_ ,” she says afterwards, still breathing hard, swooping down to retrieve one of her heels from where it was kicked across the room.

“Yeah, we’d have to be,” agrees Nathaniel, fully dressed but his hair is tousled and tie still askew, and he’s trying to take care of both without a mirror.

“Totally.”

“Not happening again.”

~

Over the next week, they end up in that supply closet twice more.

Rebecca’s getting better at the self-awareness game, but it’s a work in progress. She tells herself that it’s because Nathaniel has little idiosyncrasies that she needs to build up an immunity against. Sure, they keep unconsciously attracting the other person. It’s totally natural. They’ll just finish out the week and then it will be over.

Except despite their agreement, the same thing happens the next week. And then they get caught by the janitor, which is not only mortifying and disgusting, but is definitely, absolutely a sign from the universe that they are not going to be continuing. Especially because it happens on the day Rebecca is supposed to start therapy with Dr Akopian again, so clearly, the sign couldn’t be more obvious than if it was shaped like an arrow and flashing hot pink neon and pointing right at them. It would be obscenely stupid, to ignore such a sign.

Obviously.

~

As great as Dr Shin is, returning to Dr Akopian feels more like a step in the right direction. Dr Akopian has been as much of a fixture in her life in West Covina as anything else, even if Rebecca can admit that she probably should have taken more of Dr Akopian’s advice than she did, and Thursdays in Dr Akopian’s office are just more steps towards a true recovery, whatever that’s supposed to look like.

The trouble is, unfortunately, that they are not on the same page as to how to get there.

Look, Rebecca gets it, Dr Akopian is professional and focused and totally unfun as a result. That’s it, that’s her choice and Rebecca can respect that from her therapist as she helps her work through her mental health. There is no one Rebecca would rather lean on.

Except, for some reason, the woman that Rebecca has come to see as the champion of the Bechdel test is failing  _epically_.

“How long were you and Nathaniel intimate?” Dr. Akopian repeats the question, implacable, for all that she wears soft fabrics and is reclining in a comfy leather chair; she will yield to no amount of wheedling.

Rebecca squirms in her seat, annoyed both that Dr. Akopian wants to continue this thread of inquiry and that her CBS joke didn’t go over as well as she wanted.

“Two weeks? It depends on if I count the first time we hooked up or not, which was right before my suicide attempt, and we didn’t start dating until like, a month after that. Honestly, it was barely enough time to even call it dating, and for most of the first week it was just fooling around. Then he called me his girlfriend, and I should have seen that as a sign that the relationship was doomed because it was totally jumping the gun, except, I was getting obsess-y, so I liked it. Good for me that I broke it off, right?”

Dr Akopian does not look convinced.

“Can we talk about something else? Let’s talk about something else, like the fact that the mere prospect of being a junior partner in New York gave me a mental breakdown but now I’m senior partner at my firm and I’m  _owning_  it.”

~

Despite their initial burst of resolve and the residual mortification from getting caught, Rebecca’s newfound celibacy lasts exactly twenty-three hours, when she catches Nathaniel off-guard with a bad joke, and his resulting laughter leaves her flushed and antsy and making up excuses about file tabs.

They’ll get there. But in the meantime, sharing an office has led to other problematic situations that Rebecca hadn’t even thought to consider.

Namely, she hadn’t anticipated that Nathaniel’s habit of tossing that water polo ball against the net in the office could be _so fucking a _nnoying__ _._

“Do you always have to do that?” she demands one afternoon, a month into their new situation, when it feels like he’s taken it up for the umpteenth time. “Can’t you be a normal person and squeeze sandbags shaped like cartoons until their eyes pop or something?”

“Being kinetic helps me think,” Nathaniel says, without any trace of shame. “I’m trying to wrap my head around the Crawford case.”

“Oh god, please don’t talk to me about the Crawford case,” groans Rebecca, pulling a face.

“If I could forget the Crawfords, believe me, they would be gone,” says Nathaniel, sweeping his free hand through the air over his desk. “But, unfortunately, it is our pleasure to have to deal with them. So. Tomorrow. Your thoughts?”

He turns his hands so that the ball is tossed unceremoniously at her face.

Rebecca yelps and throws up her hands instinctively, batting the ball away, and it bounces off the windowpane, making the blinds shudder, and rolls aimlessly back towards her on the floor.

Nathaniel has the gall to look disappointed.

“Oh, come on, you could have caught that.”

“Not when I don’t know it’s coming!” snaps Rebecca, annoyed. She snatches up the ball and throws it right back at him, aiming just above his head. He catches it right before it hits the painting behind him, just at his fingertips, and scowls more deeply at her.

“You didn’t play sports growing up, did you?”

“Just dodgeball,” says Rebecca coolly. “Got picked last every time.”

“Well, look, it’s not hard…”

“Oh no,” she points at him threateningly. “You are  _not_  getting me to join into some stupid, childish habit.”

Nathaniel actually has the gall to raise his eyebrows at her.

“Says the woman who has been playing Disney showtunes in between calls for the last hour.”

Rebecca sputters indignantly. “On my earphones!”

“Then you need better earphones, because that crab has been driving me nuts for the last fifteen minutes.”

She switches to  _Mulan_  and puts  _I’ll Make a Man Out of You_ on loop, both to drown out the thump of the ball against the net and because she thinks it might annoy him best. It seems to work at first, until she catches him humming along.

~

“What is it about this arrangement with Nathaniel that you feel works for you?”

Rebecca has to fight hard not to roll her eyes at the question.

“There is nothing arranged about it. You know, it’s really ironic that you’re asking me all of these questions now, when I’m so not here to talk about the guys. You’re the one who told me that, remember? Remember when I was looking for signs to choose Josh or Greg? Remember when Greg left and broke my heart?”

“That’s because, at the time, you weren’t actively acknowledging your mental health issues and seemed fixated on the idea of a relationship that neither were offering,” says Dr Akopian coolly. “And as for your relationship with Nathaniel—”

“Wow, for the last time, I don’t have a relationship with Nathaniel—”

“Very well,  _the way you relate_  to Nathaniel is something that preoccupies a lot of your thoughts during our sessions, and if there is anything going on in those spheres of your life that might affect your treatment, it’s worth spending time discussing,” says Dr Akopian, raising her eyebrows very slightly. “If it affects the exercises I give you, I would like to know about it.”

Rebecca sinks down into the cushions, not breaking eye contact, and gives a slow nod.

“You have a point,” she says, not unbegrudgingly.

“Thank you.” Dr Akopian turns over another page of notes, revealing a fresh sheet; Rebecca strains futilely to catch a glimpse of the writing.

“How would you describe your relationship with Nathaniel while you were dating?” asks Dr Akopian.

“I mean…” Rebecca shrugs helplessly. “Not much to say. We had a lot of sex. We went out to nice restaurants a couple of times. I slept over. We talked. And then I got in too deep, did something kind of scary and obsess-y, and I needed to break it off.”

“And what was that?”

Uncomfortable and more than a little self-conscious, Rebecca rattles off her misadventure at the golf course and subsequent insistence that Nathaniel had a secret family as succinctly as possible.

“And that’s  _terrible,_  right?” she asks, wide-eyed, because if there is anyone who will agree with her assessment, it would be Dr Akopian.

“How did Nathaniel respond?” asks Dr Akopian, after a lengthy pause in which she has turns over nearly two pages of notes.

Rebecca thinks about coming over to dinner, and not being able to eat, and Nathaniel sitting there so quietly and even a month later she can feel a shadow of dread start to knot in her stomach. She pushes down the shadow memory as best she can and comes back to the present. “The thing is, you and I are really different…”

She had heard those words before.

“I thought he was going to break up with me,” she admits. “But he said that he knew I was trying to help. He forgave me and asked me not to do anything like that again.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Relieved, I guess?” Rebecca wiggles her shoulders, trying to cast off a chill. “Honestly, he was too understanding. Talking with Dr Shin made me think about that. I really wasn’t ready to have a relationship again, because even if I promised there’s no way I might not have done something obsessive like that again. I wanted him to need me in his life, and that’s not healthy. Right? It was right to do that.”

It comes out as more of a question than she means it to be.

“Rebecca,” says Dr Akopian gently. “It was your choice to remove yourself from a situation that felt potentially dangerous for your recovery. That was a healthy thing for you to do.”

 “You think so?”

“I do.”

Tentatively, Rebecca returns Dr. Akopian’s smile.

“Good. I do, too.”

For once, she leaves a therapy session feeling a little lighter.

~

On her birthday, there is an embossed pen in the center of her desk. One of those obscenely fancy ones with a refillable reservoir and marbled dark red, her name across the side in elegant script.

Nathaniel is already at his desk, diligently flipping through a case file – he doesn’t even look up when she takes her seat, when usually he at least says hello. It is this studied indifference that would have given him away, if the nature of the gift hadn’t already.

Rebecca picks it up and turns it over in her hands, the weight is pleasant.

She smiles to herself, and then looks up at Nathaniel, who is definitely hasn’t read another word of that file.

“Hey,” she says. He looks up as if he only just noticed her there.

“Hey,” he says, closing the file.

She holds up the pen at him. “This you?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, a little too casually, swiping his thumb across his temple as he does so. “You are the senior partner and you probably should have a fancy pen and it’s your birthday, anyways. So. I thought it would be appropriate.”

Considering that he has bought her underwear that didn’t fit with nary a flicker of shame, something about his discomfort is surprisingly endearing. She grins.

“Well, that’s pretty thoughtful. Thank you,” she says sincerely. “I can’t wait to use it.”

“I’m glad,” he says quickly, relaxing, and when Rebecca catches his smile, soft and quickly gone, something curls and flutters in her middle.

The feeling persists throughout the day, through back-to-back meetings and a really awful phone call with one of the local cemeteries. She tells herself that it’s just part of her normal birthday warm fuzzies, the anticipation of a fancy dinner with the girls and the hints that Paula keeps dropping about a surprise detour, but by midafternoon it’s pretty clear that whatever wavelength the fluttering is on, it’s concentrated in their shared space.

“Going somewhere?” Nathaniel asks when she’s barely taken two steps away from the desk. He’s not looking up, again giving off an impression of carefully cultivated indifference.

“I need more pens,” she says, equally casual. When he does look up, genuinely confused and seemingly a little affronted, she adds:

“Don’t get me wrong—the one you gave me is great and I’m totally going to use it to John Hancock everything that needs my signature. But honestly, for day-to-day use, you really can’t beat the cheap, clicky ones. Which we do not have in here.”

Nathaniel narrows his eyes at her. “And for good reason. They are  _really_  distracting.”

She backs out of the room, suddenly mischievous. “Just for that, I’m getting a whole dozen of them. The really  _loud_  ones.”

It takes a lot of self-control to walk, not run, to the supply closet, and even more not to burst into giggles when Nathaniel follows.

“You think you’re so funny,” he says, locking the door behind them, and it would be a lot more effective if he wasn’t so clearly trying to hide his smile.

“Funny has nothing to do with it,” she says haughtily, deliberately turning her back to him, only to squeal when he catches her around her waist as he pulls her away from the shelf she planned on raiding, her feet coming off the ground.

“Oh really?” he asks, carrying her to the table.

“Seriously,” she insists, wiggling as he sets her down, still trying to stifle her giggles. “You underestimate the importance of the clicking. It gives me a sense of, ah, completion that just really can’t be beat.”

“Completion, huh?” He braces his hands at the edge of the table, bracketing her body, leaning forward. “Right. Are you trying to give me flashbacks here? Back when you almost tried to kill me? Do I need to start wearing armor or something—”

She kisses him to shut him up, and it escalates from there.

~

“How would you describe your work dynamic with Nathaniel?”

Rebecca shrugs. “Good? I mean, I’m indisputably the senior partner and he backs me. I’ve never had a problem with him not taking my suggestions seriously. And he’s a great negotiator once we agree on a plan of action. But personally, he can be an asshole, except for these moments where he’s suddenly, like, really sweet and thoughtful. Like, very genuine. It’s confusing. And, not going to lie, kind of a turn-on.”

Dr Akopian closes her eyes and inhales deeply; Rebecca rushes to course-correct.

“But, obviously, that doesn’t matter. And more than anything else, I would call him my friend first.”

“Your friend?”

“Yeah. It’s like, we share interests, have a surprisingly similar sense of humor about certain subjects, have a lot of the same neuroses—seriously, the guy could probably do with some therapy of his own, not that it’s my place—and we’re comfortable around each other. We have inside jokes. We make sense to each other. So…yeah. He’s my friend.”

“And that’s all?”

“That’s all,” she says, nodding resolutely.

~

There shouldn’t be anything sexy about legalese. Rebecca can attest to that.

But then there’s Nathaniel at the front of the room and his lips are moving and it almost doesn’t matter what he’s saying because she’s nearly squirming out of her seat.

It’s a problem, because he keeps catching her eye throughout the presentation, and when he pauses to take a breath his mouth curls up slightly, as if they are sharing a secret.

Which—she supposes they are, considering how many nights they have spent trying to hammer out an argument to shut down this absurd plan of their clients’.

Unfortunately, Nathaniel’s delivery of their legal bitch slap is really doing something for her.

As soon as the meeting ends Rebecca shoots out of her chair, heading for destination she-does-not-know-where. Their shared office is out right now – a total no-go zone, and coffee is not ideal as there is a chance she might actually vibrate into another plane of existence. She goes to Paula’s desk, hoping for a few minutes’ respite with some airy gossip, but Paula’s not there –since she has taken more responsibilities over in the firm, it makes sense that she would have meetings of her own to prep. So Rebecca messes around with her phone, pretending to send emails, until their next appointment comes in through the lobby.

It’s a particularly exasperating meeting with Whitworth and Stonebrow (they may have saved Tim’s job, but she really has to ask some days if it was worth it) and afterwards Rebecca heads straight for the supply closet. It’s only a coincidence that Nathaniel follows soon after, knocking the door closed with his heel. When she turns to face him, she’s pleased to see that his expressions are in a nearly identical scowl.

“I’m delegating to Tim next time,” he announces, tossing the file to the side and moving towards her. “And I need more highlighters. Something angry. Do we have red highlighters?”

“Sorry, just orange.”

He pulls a face. “Is orange angry enough?”

“No clue – yellow is good enough for me. We do have red ballpoint pens,” she offers, walking them backwards until her back is against a particularly sturdy set of shelves. “Like, you can really tear into arguments that way. Drag it right through the grain; gotta love marking things up.”

“Mhm,” he agrees, his hands already reaching up and around her waist, slipping her belt out of their loops, while she untucks his shirt to start unbuttoning, progress hindered when one of his hands comes and tilts up her chin to catch her in a kiss.

The thing is—

The thing—

Oh  _god_.

It’s not a planned thing. It’s never a planned thing. It’s always a mistake. She wears clothes that don’t come off easily, or makeup that smears, so  _clearly_ , it’s not premeditated. They don’t tear each other up, like they are trying to make their marks.

There’s a logic though, isn’t there, in the two of them coming together like this? She’s frustrated and has energy to burn and so does he, and they are both highly intelligent people with slightly too short tempers and they can handle each other, right? Are willing to handle each other when everyone else in their lives give them a wide berth. They especially know how to handle this particular kind of stress relief very well, so really, it’s better for everyone that they get this out of their systems right now, and they can concentrate on other things for the rest of the day.

And it will not happen again, not like this.

~

They’re doing good work in therapy. Even on the bad days, when she goes home, kicks off her shoes and falls into bed, it feels a little better, less knotted and congealed beneath the daily putter of checklists and strange notions and fretting and everything else.

The only place where she and Dr Akopian are not on the same page is the whole, Nathaniel-thing-that-is-not-a-thing.

Rebecca doesn’t get it. She hasn’t spent nearly as much time talking about Paula and their codependency, and they have known each other for much longer. There’s nothing particularly interesting going on with Nathaniel.

What more does Dr Akopian expect her to say?

“Why do you want to know so much about Nathaniel?” demands Rebecca. It’s warmer than usual in the room – a rare chill has rattled West Covina and between the newly stifling warmth and the soft throws and the knowledge that she is a complete weakling who used to be able to walk around in shorts in weather like this but now she needs a sturdy jacket is making her cranky. “I mean, yes, we slipped up, but that was last week. It’s not going to happen again.”

“That is a longer gap than usual,” says Dr Akopian, and wow her voice is drier than church during Prohibition. “But you’ve been saying that it would be the end for nearly three months now. These encounters don’t seem to be decreasing.”

“Hey, you said that was part of my recovery,” defends Rebecca, throwing out an accusatory finger and withdrawing hastily when Dr Akopian’s eyebrows snap up at her. “You said it wasn’t unusual for patients to backslide, right? And I’m trying, and I’m doing better, but like you’ve said, stuff like this is going to happen.”

“Rebecca,” says Dr Akopian, tapping her pen against her notepad.  “If you are serious about what you’ve been telling me about ending these incidents, we might want to try looking at them as a pattern, not individual mistakes – if you can identify it, perhaps you can break it.”

“Right, got it,” says Rebecca, sitting up straight, leaning forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “Well, hit me with it, Doctor—what’s this pattern?”

“That’s something I would like to see if we can find out together. Are there any common factors in your interactions with Nathaniel before…incidents like those?”

Rebecca shrugs sullenly.

“No? I mean, sometimes I just look at him and I get just…restless, you know? So, sometimes, if I’m annoyed or bored or get some other weird feeling, I’ll go walk around. I’ll go to the supply closet to pick something up and either he’s already getting something else or he’s walking by, and we start talking about non-work stuff and…”

She makes an obscene gesture with both hands and shrugs helplessly.

Dr Akopian sighs.

“Have you considered that it might be easier to resist temptation if you and Nathaniel weren’t always in such close proximity?”

“No. And where would he go? We don’t have any other solo offices, and I wouldn’t put him in a conference room—I don’t even do that to George. If he wasn’t a partner, I guess I could give him the cubicle next to Paula’s, but that’s kind of petty and she’s really gotten used to spreading her stuff out...”

“Your firm has one other partner, doesn’t it? Perhaps an alternate office arrangement could be worked out, if they are amenable to it.”

“What? No! Look, it may be kind of unorthodox, but Nathaniel and I sharing an office is actually a good thing. I know you think it might be one of the reasons I was making those mistakes, but it’s actually  _preventing_  mistakes.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Rebecca nods fervently. “If I didn’t see him, I would probably end up doing what I did with Josh and contriving all of these, like, weird situations just to be near him. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

Dr Akopian looks unconvinced.

“And, honestly, we do get a lot of work done,” she adds.

~

Rebecca manages to miss Plimpton Sr’s next surprise visit to the office, but she returns in time to witness the aftermath. Maya is hiding in her cubicle, Tim keeps cringing at the slightest movement, and Paula only shakes his head and gestures towards the closed office door as if to say,  _all yours and good luck_.

Rebecca makes a point of knocking before she enters.

“Hey,” she says softly. Nathaniel isn’t even looking up, sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

“Hey.” His return greeting is far more clipped. He scrapes his hand through his hair one more time, hard enough to leave red marks at the nape of his neck, before taking a deep breath, and raising his eyes to meet hers in some semblance of normalcy. “How did the meeting go?”

“It went. They agreed with our plan and I can give you the details later. Seriously, are you sure you’re okay? Because you look the way I felt the last time I was face-to-face with my father and you know what kind of a tool he is.”

Nathaniel exhales and gives her a smile that is more like a grimace.

“I’ll be fine. He was just…expressing his displeasure at the recent shift in leadership.”

“Now?” Rebecca drops her purse at the foot of her desk. “Isn’t he a little late to the party?”

“Oh no, this isn’t the first time. But quarterly reports are coming up, so,” he makes a dismissive flick of the wrist, a casual backhand. “He made a point of emphasizing how embarrassing it would be if our numbers trend down.”

Rebecca winces. “Right.”

When she looks back up at him she sees that his face has softened. “Don’t be like that. I already checked –our numbers are up. Honestly, he wasn’t that bad today. It could have gone worse.”

 _Really?_  Rebecca wants to say.  _Because you don’t look like it._

But that might be a little much, a little too nosy, so she holds her tongue, mentally casting a net for something she already knows, a safer way to ask.

“Aren’t you having dinner with him tomorrow?” she says, remembering a particular notation on his calendar when they were trying to set up a visit to a site. “Do you need to make up an excuse? A doctor’s note? It doesn’t have to be anything too big—usually a twisted elbow works. Or maybe an emergency appendectomy? You can only do it once, but it’s very effective as long as he doesn’t have any connections at the hospital he can call directly to ask if your scars are likely to be seen by your future spouse. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.”

He chuckles at that.

“Thanks, but don’t worry, he’ll be on his best behavior, with Mona coming over and all.”

“Oh, really?” Rebecca sits down heavily in her chair. “Wow, I didn’t know you guys were at that point already. That’s pretty fast.”

She doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, just make an observation, but the lines of Nathaniel’s shoulders go taut, so she definitely missed the mark.

“I mean, it’s only a formality. They’ve met her before,” says Nathaniel defensively. “When we were in school. I figured there wasn’t any point in putting it off.”

“No, of course. That totally makes sense,” says Rebecca, her voice pitching a little too high and she hates her body for doing this to her, for making it sound like she cares when she doesn’t, when in reality she never wants to meet the Plimptons in person ever. Well, scratch that, she wouldn’t mind meeting Nathaniel Sr, if only to give him the kind of dressing down that Renee Zellweger gives her publishers in  _Down with Love_ …

Wow, whatever she had for lunch is really acting up. And now Nathaniel’s looking at her funny.

“Rebecca, are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says brusquely, waving away his concern.

“Are you sure? Because you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right?” He hesitates, then pushes forward. “If there’s anything I can do…”

“Seriously, I’m fine.” She cuts him off, not wanting to hear anything that he’s trying to offer.

They spend the rest of the afternoon working in silence.

~

“What do you think Nathaniel is getting out of this arrangement?” asks Dr Akopian.

Rebecca wonders irritably if her ass is wearing a groove into the sofa, with the number of times she has sunk into it.

“What do you think?”

“I’m asking you.”

Rebecca shrugs. “It’s good sex. Does it need to be anything else?”

“What about his girlfriend?”

“They’re going strong, which is great for him, he hasn’t ever really been in a long-term relationship before, so I guess he’s doing something right. Anyways, the last time was the last time for both of us. Totally. It’s  _ended_. And don’t worry, I’m not going to act out by turning to one-night stands or anything; sex with strangers rarely ends well. I’ll probably just get a new vibrator, ‘cause mine has lost its oompf, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Unfortunately,” says Dr Akopian flatly. She turns a page in her notebook, ignoring Rebecca’s attempted wink of solidarity.

~

She hasn’t looked up Mona since that first time.

That already shows she’s doing better, she tells herself. It wasn’t like with Robert’s wife, or Valencia, or Anna. She knows the bare minimum details about Mona -she’s a Stanford friend of Nathaniel’s and professional and seems to be a decent person.

That being said, Rebecca is still tangentially aware of her; she shows up with regularity in Nathaniel’s Instagram pictures. Usually, Rebecca only gives them a cursory glance before moving on to Valencia’s newest selfie and spamming her with emoticons, or scrolling to the sneak peeks of paint samples and new furniture that Heather teases on the second Home Base remodel.

She scrolls back up to the picture of Nathaniel and Mona in Pasadena. They look good together, she thinks absently. Good. Nathaniel’s Instagram is very curated, and they are always at fancy parties or soirees or other events together, with people whom Rebecca doesn’t recognize, and that’s fine. It reminds her that breaking up with Nathaniel, in addition to being good for her mental health, was overall a good thing for her lifestyle. If anything could make her go insane, it would be a constant stream of parties with tiny bries and smaller worldviews. She could never imagine herself in this world, both like and unlike the one Naomi tried to mold her into, not after the warmth of West Covina. And even she had the ability to bow out and still be with him, she would have been always anxious that he’d get tired of her, that he would find someone else who fits and doesn’t get angry or stalk his father.

All problems that she no longer has to worry about.

~

“You’ve mentioned feeling abandoned in previous relationships. Do you feel that might be a concern in this dynamic?”

“How can I be abandoned if I don’t have him?” asks Rebecca, exasperated, throwing up her hands, fingers splayed wide. “There’s nothing to miss. We split months ago. I’m off relationships. I’m not looking for anything right now. You understand?”

“Of course. That’s very natural.”

“Isn’t it? Thank you. Look, I want to focus on getting better. I may have a…a history of mistakes with Nathaniel, sure, but that’s just impulse control. Beyond that, I don’t really feel anything about it.”

Dr Akopian’s brow furrows. “You don’t feel anything about this situation?”

“I mean…well, not  _nothing_ , obviously, but nothing that really matters in the long run. We are two people who broke up and still sometimes find each other attractive. But again, it’s not a  _thing_. Why do you think it matters?”

Dr Akopian is sitting up a little straighter, leaning forward.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Unease prickles at the back of Rebecca’s neck. Because, it’s not that her history with Nathaniel doesn’t matter, exactly, but that she knows it matters so much less in the long run of being healthy and, if it can be reached, achieving some semblance of normalcy.

It’s just…difficult to parse. Because in the spare moments when she does think of it a little more deeply, there’s something else drifting under the simplicity of renewed lust and affection. Something consuming and important and frightening, that she knows by feeling if not by name, that stays away as long as she does not name it.

For a long moment neither of them moves, just staring silently across the room at each other.

Rebecca abruptly stands and slings her purse over her shoulder.

“You know what? I think that’s enough for today. We’re good.” Rebecca babbles, abruptly standing and slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Great work today, love the necklace, see you next week.”

She tries not to rush out the door, and ignores Dr Akopian calling after her, the blood pulsing in her ears.

~

When she gets back to the office she barely bothers with pretense, ambushing Nathaniel in the hallway, hooking him by the elbow and dragging him right into the supply closet, pushing him against the door and leans into his body. She has to go on her toes to kiss him, hands skimming up his chest and curl into the knot of his tie, pulling it loose.

He returns her kiss as she knows he will, bending his head down, his hands coming up into her hair as they always do, thumbing her cheek while his tie slips away, undone. But then before she can start on the buttons of his shirt, he draws away.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“With me? Always,” she purrs. But when she tries to go for his collar his hands come up, brushing hers away, catching and enclosing them with his.

“No, seriously. What’s going on with you? Did something happen in therapy?”

Rebecca shakes her head and tries to pull out of his grasp, but he holds firm.

“Not really your business, is it?” she snaps, frustrated, avoiding his eyes.

“Not my—” His jaw tightens and he scowls down at her. “I’m your friend, aren’t I? I can ask if things are all right.” His thumb brushes gently over her palm, where he’s still holding her. “That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

She looks down at their joined hands, the impulse nipping at her, urging her to say what’s on her mind, that in isolation, she knows exactly what they are doing but when taken as a whole, is a different beast entirely.

But no.

He’s not supposed to ask about her directly. It’s fine to be sideways about it, to know things about each other because of proximity and half-overheard conversations and circumstances, but—

It’s bad because even under her irritation, something warm and red is curling up within her at his concern.

She doesn’t want that.

“No, you can’t,” she says, stepping away from him, pulling their hands apart.

His hands hover, as if still trying to hold the shape of her, and he shakes his head and reaches up to redo his tie.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says coolly, his expression closed. “And if that’s the case, I don’t know what I’m doing here. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

He opens the door and sees himself out, and Rebecca lets herself rest against the edge of the printer and breathes.

This is good. This is progress. They can be in a small, enclosed space and leave it without having fucked. They can do that. Things will be normal with Nathaniel again.

She can do that.

She gives herself a minute to compose herself, to tighten the longing in her gut, take deep breaths until she can vanquish it.

This is better. She can say it, that this isn’t something that she wants.

_Then what do you want, Rebecca?_

She ignores it, scrubbing hard at her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“That doesn’t matter now,” she says aloud, before straightening up and opening the door.

She’ll figure it out when it does.

 


End file.
